


Blackout

by philos_manthanein



Series: Daddy Issues [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Emotions, Heavily-Implied Cock Slut Dante, Incest, M/M, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 14:52:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18640351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philos_manthanein/pseuds/philos_manthanein
Summary: Nero has one big, angry, horny crisis over his chronic daddy issues.





	Blackout

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [【翻译】Blackout](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18707233) by [SoNotMotivated (Alucard1771)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alucard1771/pseuds/SoNotMotivated)



> The main ship here is Nero/Vergil with some Vergil/Dante and the other pairings are mostly just referenced.

Vergil is nothing like V. Even though V and Urizen were supposed to be his two halves or what-the-fuck-ever, Nero sees nothing about V in his father. Far more the demon than the human. Ever more the asshole than a man. Nero thinks he hates him, but can you really hate someone you hardly know?

Yes. Yes, definitely. 

Nero misses V. He doesn’t know all the logistics of why or how V even managed to exist. Did he ever really count as real? When they were alone he sure felt real. The way V spoke to him, touched him, and drew from Nero the fierce desire to protect him. To fight for him. To touch V back and feel, if briefly, that Nero found something good and worthy of admiration. Something real and alive and brilliant and  _ worth _ coveting. Not like dead-as-a-doornail Sparda. Not like Vergil.

The pining doesn’t stop. Nero tries to not make his displeasure obvious. Tries but fails, because it feels like every time he sees his father he looks for V anyway; clinging to the idea he could still be there in Vergil’s shell. 

But V had been so fragile, and Vergil is not. Nero passes his eyes over his father’s body, only seeing the tightly toned muscles in his arms and thighs even hidden under his layers of clothing. 

V dressed so light. Nero asked if he ever got cold in that stupid outfit. V brushed off the notion but it didn’t dissuade Nero from wanting to keep him warm anyway. His skin still remembers how cool V’s limbs felt against him, but how hot he was inside. 

Vergil always catches his eyes when Nero’s staring. Nero hates the tension that coils inside his guts when that happens. The shiver that crawls like fire down his spine when he sees Vergil’s lips curve reaffirms his hatred.

Vergil is cold, but that has nothing to do with the weather or his ridiculous clothes. Nero doesn’t think he could warm him even if he wanted to try.

He doesn’t want to try. Not at all.

Because even when he sees Dante and Vergil together - mouths wide and so tightly fit he wonders how they even breathe with their tongues so far down each other’s throats - there’s still a cool distance there. There’s violence in the way Vergil pulls at Dante’s hair, how he yanks his brother forward by his belt, and how Dante allows his hips to be crushed against Vergil’s with those limb-destroying hands. 

There’s desire, too. It’s obvious they’re so hungry with familiar wanting. They rut against each other - in broad daylight even - unhindered by the idea that they could be seen on these broken streets, against these ruinous buildings. Neither of them would particularly care about Nero seeing how Vergil forces Dante to his knees before his cock, and how little Dante protests being made to look submissive. Nero knows enough about Dante’s proclivities himself to understand that Dante’s body is always willful, needy. 

He knows they wouldn’t care if he saw the way his father grips Dante’s skull and forcibly fucks his cock down his twin’s tight throat. Nero knows, but hides anyway. The tight outline of his own too-easily-stimulated cock is too embarrassingly obvious in his pants. Nero knows the feel of Dante’s mouth on his skin, too. He’d been more than happy to forget it, for V...

But he would have never broken V the way Vergil breaks Dante; no matter how willing.

Vergil is nothing like V. Nero quietly prays that he is nothing like Vergil. 

Nero thinks he’s hidden when he palms over his concealed cock hoping the friction will somehow give some relief. He swears they can’t see, biting his bottom lip to keep himself quiet. So it’s all the more shocking, stunning, when once again his father’s eyes catch his. Once again Vergil’s mouth curls into that stupid fucking grin. Only then does Nero feel a twist of disgust inside himself. Vergil shoves his cock into Dante’s throat and Nero can see his uncle’s body convulse from it, fingers clutching and twisting tightly at the hems of Vergil’s stupid fancy coat.

Nero forces his hand away from his own body and leaves. He should have known that Vergil would track him down. Neither of those twin bastards can ever let him suffer his indignities in peace.

Vergil is silent when he corners Nero in his small hideaway bedroom. A stupid place to hide, really. He doesn’t come to the shop often anymore, but he didn’t want to deal with Nico’s incessant lewd questions or her flapping a skin mag in his face suggesting he “take a load off”. Still, that’s almost preferable when Vergil grabs his throat and pins him against the headboard. 

Their eyes connect again and Nero shivers. He squirms against his father’s hold, but Vergil is so strong. So Nero spits in his face, slobber splatting against his cheek.

“Fuck. Off.” Nero growls.

Vergil wipes the spit away with his free hand. His fingers flex against Nero’s throat and Nero goes tense. He expects the grip to tighten harder, to squeeze the air out of him. His imagination glows alight with visions of his father crushing his windpipe. Perhaps ripping it right out of him, lungs and all. He could do it, if he wanted to.

What Nero doesn’t expect is for Vergil to loosen his hold. That alone leaves him breathless in a way that has nothing to do with the release of pressure. Vergil doesn’t move away. His fingertips still linger against his skin. They brush over the raw skin of Nero’s neck, where he’s sure it’s red from how it stings. Vergil leans closer until Nero can feel his father’s breath against his own mouth. Until Nero has to close his eyes and try to steady his pulse, because his heart is thrumming so freneticaly he’s sure Vergil can hear it. Maybe he feels it, too. 

Maybe that’s why his searching fingers find Nero’s lips instead. Nero can’t help the tiny, pathetic whimper that escapes them.

Because this touch is V.

The memory crashes against him like a slow-motion wreck. Light and airy touches against him, stolen in deathly silent places like this. The feeling of V’s mouth against his; assertive but so soft too. How V sat on his lap and cupped his face to tilt his head up when they kissed. Nero revelled in the feeling when he swallowed up V’s quiet, needy groans as they rocked against each other.

And he’s revelling in it now, too, even though he knows the body against his is all his father’s.

Vergil’s body is too sturdy to ever be confused, but his touch is so familiar. Not even Dante could caress Nero the way that V did; too impatient and wanting to have Nero’s cock in his mouth or up his ass to care about foreplay that didn’t involve something violent or gross. But Vergil’s finding all the spots Nero once thought secret, especially after his father manages to pull him out of his clothes.

It’s not the rough and desperate way he’s seen Vergil and Dante go at each other. This is slow. Meticulous. Vergil sliding his palm against Nero’s taut, warm stomach as he rolls Nero’s shirt up and then over his head. His hands run down Nero’s side after - so softly it’s almost ticklish - but his mouth goes to the dip where Nero’s neck meets his sternum. His father swirls his tongue against it and it’s such a perfect mirror of V that Nero has to open his eyes to make sure. 

Nero’s breath hitches when he sees Vergil looking back at him. He’s still silent, but his glassy eyes say enough. So does his body, because Nero can feel Vergil’s cock against his thigh through their clothes. 

He can’t hide his own neediness. And he also can’t deny that his father is so fucking attractive, too. Nero feels like he’s sinking, so he carefully holds onto the back of Vergil’s head and urges him forward to meet his mouth again. 

Vergil strips Nero of his pants and underpants, doing this slow, too. Avoiding Nero’s aching erect cock until he’s fully nude, and only then letting his fingers slide over the cut head, squeezing it and pressing his thumb against the wet slit. Nero bucks his hips up, wanting more, but Vergil pulls his hand away. Nero breaks their deep kiss with a strangled sound. 

He watches his father sit back on his knees on the bed. Vergil goes to start taking off his own clothes, which spurs Nero into action. He scrambles up and seizes Vergil’s lapel.

“Let me.” Nero’s voice betrays how heady he is. 

So Vergil does let Nero unwrap him, even though he’s clumsier because his heart is racing and his head is cloudy. Nero peels away the layers until he can reach Vergil’s skin. It’s warm. It’s so warm. Something in Nero jumps at that, but he keeps going, touching broad muscle and the wiry, masculine hair of his chest and abdomen. So unlike V, but still so arousing Nero almost forgets how remorseful he should be feeling. 

As Nero’s exploring the new expanse of Vergil’s body with every layer removed, Vergil leans forward again. At first Nero thinks they’re going to kiss again, but his father ducks to bring his teeth to Nero’s neck instead. He bites and sucks right at the juncture of his jawline. It sends a tremble through Nero. 

All these touches feel just like V. Even Vergil’s decided silence is like the quiet intimacy Nero cherished. All of him aches from the memory.

Nero realises now that Vergil must remember everything, too.

Something quakes inside of Nero, breaking. He works quicker to get Vergil out of his clothes. Vergil stifles a laugh at his impatience only Nero can’t bring himself to hate it, not when that too is so much like V. Nero urges his father onto his back and doesn’t even expect resistance, because Vergil has been telling him without words exactly what he wanted this whole time. Nero was just too stupid to see it before, and that’s always his problem, isn’t it?

Vergil’s body isn’t the same as V’s, but Nero wants to treat them the same regardless. So he kisses Vergil slowly and carefully presses his legs apart so he can slide their cocks against each other. And Vergil lets him, watching his son indulge himself in the intimacy he’d thought he’d lost. 

Nero reaches for Vergil’s large and curved cock, carefully sliding his foreskin down to release the head. He can’t help but think, with some amazement, that Dante could take it all in his mouth and his ass. But Nero’s cock is also quite big and Dante took that with gusto. 

He’d always worried about hurting V when they had sex. He doesn’t think he has to worry about that with his father. Nero’s face flushes warmly with anticipation as he rocks forward and lets his cock rut against Vergil’s balls. 

Fuck, he needs lube. He has some, of course, in his bedside table. It’s so stupid that when he digs the little half-empty bottle out he feels weirdly sentimental. Nero shoves that thought aside and slides back between his father’s legs. Nero’s eager, plush with mixed lust of his memories of V and the undeniable temptation of Vergil’s naked body spread willingly before him. He coats his fingers with the cheap lubricant and doesn’t hesitate to spread it over Vergil’s hole, matting the thick hair that surrounds it. 

When he pushes his index finger in, Vergil finally makes a sound. A low, gravelly thing. It makes Nero’s heart stop. He pumps it in again, this time eyes glued to his father’s face, watching the way Vergil’s brow furrows and how his teeth grit. Nero wonders if there’s a possibility that Vergil isn’t used to receiving. 

Nero decides not to ask. He doesn’t want to ruin the sudden fantasy sending his heart and brain reeling. 

Instead, he works more lube into Vergil, delighting well in the sounds and movements he can draw out of his father. Nero saves the coating of his own cock for last, because he honestly worries that he’s so oversensitive he might cum much too quickly. He wants to savor Vergil like he savored V, and being allowed to do so is a privilege not lost on him.

Nero guides the swollen, lubed head of his cock into Vergil. He presses against the resistance, until the slickness aids in letting him sink in. Hot. Hot and tight. Vergil draws the entirety of his shaft in and they both groan out loud once Nero’s hips meet the curve of Vergil’s ass. Nero’s not sure he can last with his mind so fried. He looks down at Vergil and sees a look of indulgence there that he’s never witnessed before. He wants to covet it. Nero pulls back a bit then slams his cock back in deep, memorizing the look and sound and feeling of being inside his father. 

Nero fucks Vergil. It’s not violent. It’s not mean or angry or hateful. It’s probably clumsy, because Nero is so on edge. But it’s intense and wanting. Needing. He clings to Vergil, fucking into him in short and sharp bursts and pushing his hot, sweaty face against Vergil’s neck. It’s so unlike V and yet so much the same. Nero’s not sure if he cums first or sobs first. He’s not sure it matters, the release of both actions consumes him.

When he pulls back and sits up, breath hitching and face wet, he sees that at some point Vergil came, too. His father’s cum is sticky and slick across both of their stomachs. Nero wants to say something to break the tension clinging like spiderwebs in the air. But then Vergil reaches up and touches Nero’s face, silent again with a narrowed look. Nero knows then what he wants to say as he leans his face into Vergil’s touch.

“I missed you.” Nero’s voice breaks sorrowfully into the silence.

And he’s not really sure who he’s saying it to. 


End file.
